El-P: Tasmanian Pain Coaster

(Intro: From the 1992 film "Fire Walk With Me")
Do you think that if you were falling in space
That you would slow down after a while, or go faster and faster?
Faster and faster...
For a long time you wouldn't feel anything...
Then you would burst into into fire, for ever
And the angel's won't help you, 'cause they've all gone away...

(Un, dos, un, dos, tres, quatro)

I saw this kid walking down the street
I was like "wait" (echoes)

(El-P)
Bumped into this kid I knew, he often would walk strange
So I ignored the blood on his laces so this cat could save face
The dunks and the gaze stayed in an off grey haze
And the lump in his pocket talked to the ox that he clutched safe
So I saluted him there, waiting for the A
Trapped on the empty platform without the option to escape
Gave him the standard: "Yo, what up man, how you landin'?"
And the hypnotized response was no surprise: "I maintain"
"Yeah we all do, that's the standardized refrain
But on some really real man, good to see you, really, what the dealy deal?"
Oops, fuck, screwed the pooch, asked too much, knew the truth
On the train now, a caboose
In his brain now, no recluse
80 Blocks to uptown spot, destination vocal booth
Metro-card like: "you get what you pay for, stupid", no excuse
He pulled his hoody off his cabbage rugged practical
And began to fancy the words I mistakenly jostled loose
The stogie he brazenly lit where he sit looked legit
But when the flame touched to the tip I could smell it's of another nit
He leaned his head back and inhaled the newpie dip and said
"The whole design got my mind cryin', if I'm lyin' I'm dyin'... shit"

This is the sound of what you don't know killing you
This is the sound of what you don't believe still true
This is the sound of what you don't want still in you
TPC motherfucker, cop a feel or two

The whole design got my mind cryin', if I'm lyin' I'm dyin'
Dyin', I'm flyin', the same line, no disguise, guy... I'm bent up
Know the sky's high by coincidence and I'm tied blind insignificant
To the ground function I'm Munsoned, it's the dreaded 7/10 split again
The medic made it out to be, epidemic shaded... wow for me
Evidence of pressures mounting, residential shroud: King's County
Brotherhood of the working wounded, wounded working city unit
Taking out the trash and strappin in, let's get it movin', stupid
Many men make moves more useless, use abuse quick
Losers, juiceless
Bitch, either speak the truth or you leave toothless
Two fists of the furiously ruthless
Justice for my very own amusement with no regard for the conclusion
I swagger with rats tappin' the glass in a Gov. lab
Pass me the gloves, mask and flask of the cheapest liquor you have
In the back of the tasmanian path, insane again laughin
Cacklin' at the randomness of the city and all its facts
The dark art of interrogation agent skippin' class
And at last in a flash on my tip toes walkin' on cracked glass
Gats blast and wiz by fast or just catch in my calves like "hold that!"
In other words: I'm trash, glad you asked

This is the sound of what you don't know killing you
This is the sound of what you don't believe still true
This is the sound of what you don't want still in you
TPC motherfucker, cop a feel or two

Your future's uncertain here now
The plot smears on the wall
Said, your future's uncertain here now
The plot smears on the wall